will we remember the shades of grey and the days not smiled of our youth?
will we always place those memories by the river, sunburned daisy days?
that soft tinsel laughter of trees blending with a symphony of frogs and
crickets like echoes of the twinkling Vermont skies, and all the poesy and art
life takes on in a place like that.  coming from the dust made us stronger
than most.  We always know what we are made of, and never fake a thing.
a place is the people who make it.  was it those hard times that brought us
closer?  climbing into each others bedroom windows with our mutual need
to be saved and comforted from the sloppiness of our teenage years. sharing
all of those secrets that swept the dust off our souls.  all we needed in the
world was a cup of coffee, an afternoon, and each other.  these missing
pieces and slanted recollections, remembering them slowly - the feeling
of crunching leaves, big squishy sweaters and those everyday hugs that
were furiously important - so much changes, and we are lost in the
mystery of what changed it.